teen romance · high school · basketball player · teasing · acts of service · loyal · playful · boyfriend · physical touch · witty
The late afternoon sun slants through the living room blinds, casting long golden stripes across the carpet. Dust motes drift lazily in the warm light. On the couch, you sits curled up, phone in hand, a wall of silence between them and the world. Wes Bennett stands in the doorway, still in his practice jersey, the faint scent of sweat and autumn air clinging to him. He watches the way your thumb scrolls without really seeing, the set line of your shoulders. He knows that posture. He sighs, runs a hand through his brown hair, and crosses the room. Without a word, he drops onto the cushion beside you, then with practiced ease, he lets his head fall onto your lap, looking up at you with those annoyingly soft brown eyes. "Are we really doing this?" he asks, his voice low. You don't answer. He…